The Romantic Fool
by BelleLitteraire
Summary: A story of the lost moments of the pilot episode from Evan's POV


Evan stood in the silence of his lab looking at two tickets in his hand—tickets to the re-release of a 2007 Chinese foreign film, _The Romantic Fool._ When he bought them about three weeks ago, he meant to take Isabel, the American Airlines flight attendant that he'd been seeing for close to three months. But on her last layover, he and Isabel had just finished having sex on his couch, both of them having been too frantic and desperate to get it on that they didn't even bother making it all the way across the living room to his bedroom, and she started to pull her uniform dress back on.

"Where are you going?" Evan had asked, a frown puckering his brow.

She had sighed and a gossamer smile played about her lips as she smoothed the front of her dress. "I can't stay. I've got to get back to my apartment… my sister's got this dinner thing."

"Oh," Evan said, and looked around for his pants. "Will I see you Thursday night? I've got tickets to a movie premiere at the Sunshine Cinema."

Isabel straightened her neckerchief and slipped into her high-heeled shoes. "I don't think so, Evan."

"You're flying back out? Has your schedule changed?" He reached for the copy of her October flight schedule on his coffee table.

Isabel leaned forward and put her hand on his. Evan suddenly felt like she was about to offer him a beverage or drape one of those scratchy, thin blue airline-issue blankets across his lap. She even assumed her most engaging customer service tone of voice. "It's been really fun, babe, but I've been transferred to Dallas. I finally got the promotion I'd been bidding for, and I have to move bases."

"Oh," was all Evan could manage again. He really quite liked Isabel. She was gone four days out of the week, sometimes five, depending on her schedule. And she made time for him once a week—mostly spent inside his apartment—in his bedroom, or in the living room, or in the shower….She wasn't clingy and didn't demand to be wooed, wined, and dined. But what attracted Evan to her the most was that she looked a little bit like Cat, and in his mind, touching and kissing Isabel was little bit like doing the same to Catherine Chandler.

"Are you okay?" Isabel now sat on the couch next to him and handed him the hastily discarded shirt that she picked up from the floor.

Evan gave her a wistful smile. "I'm all right. I wish you luck, Is."

* * *

The premiere tickets now burned in the breast pocket of his lab coat. He was supposed to be working on the autopsy of the fashion editor Ashley Webster—he had snatched up her case file from the docket before the assistant ME Morrissey got a hold of it. He had taken one look at the file label and saw that the case was assigned to Chandler/Vargas and there was no way he'd let Morrissey do the autopsy. He'd noticed Morrissey's eyes following Cat recently and a tiny dart of jealousy had stabbed at his chest. But he couldn't deal with the post-mortem yet; he hoped he could get a moment alone with Cat and ask her to go to the premiere with him. He took off the lab coat and made his way through the narrow hallway towards the detectives' area. He stopped short when he saw that Joe was going through a briefing with Cat, Tess, and a couple of new detectives. Evan sighed. _The Romantic Fool _was going to have to wait.

* * *

Asking her to go to the cinema with him would represent a big step. It would mean possibly going from being co-workers and friends to dating and he wasn't quite sure if she would be receptive. Was he thinking too much about this? He could just play it cool so she wouldn't suspect he was asking her on a date—it would just be two people hanging out on a weeknight to watch an art-house film.

"_Evan, please tell me you have something…."_

Startled from his reverie, Evan found himself automatically rattling off his findings, but his heart was pounding so loudly that he was surprised she couldn't hear it. He hid his insecurities with humor, and that was exactly what he was doing now, in between reporting autopsy results, asking her what size shoes she wore. _What is the matter, with you, man? Just ask her!_ "Keep me posted," she said and was about to dash off. Evan took a deep breath to quell the drumbeat in his heart and bit the bullet.

* * *

Did she say yes? She didn't say no, but then, she was about to rush off and he probably shanghaied her with his question. He hoped he sounded confident and not like some desperate bloke. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his lab coat and smiled to himself. He was finally going out with Catherine Chandler.

"Did you just ask Cat Chandler to a movie?" accused Morrissey. "I thought she had a boyfriend. And aren't you seeing someone?"

"Bugger off Morrissey, none of your business. And get to work on getting that hair sample tested," Evan snapped.

* * *

Evan called Cat's cell phone, and he glanced at the lab clock. He was so pleased with himself, and it was six hours to premiere.

"Cat, I just gave you cause of death."

She sounded distracted but that wasn't going to burst his bubble. "I'll see you at the cinema at nine," he said and pushed End on his phone. She didn't sound enthusiastic. _She's in the middle of a case, _he told himself_. She said she'd be there_.

* * *

At 7:30 PM Evan was getting ready. He mulled over his wardrobe choices and in the end decided against a jacket, collared shirt and slacks—he didn't want it to feel like a date nor did he want her to see him in his usual work attire. In the end he opted for a navy blue V-neck sweater and jeans. He started to reach for his cologne but pulled his hand back on that as well; he definitely did not want to smell that nice. He glanced at his watch and decided to head out the door now to catch the F train to the Lower East Side and get to the theatre before 9 PM. As he shrugged into his leather jacket, he glanced at the small bunch of flowers that, on impulse, he bought at a flower stand after work. Like the slacks and cologne, he thought the better of it. He grabbed his keys and left the flowers on the kitchen table.

The Sunshine Cinema was an old vaudeville house that was recently restored by its new owners. The overhaul of the building brought the theatre to the 21st century with its modernized auditoriums and gourmet concessions. But there were elements of its original architecture that were preserved—from the golden brick façade to the unique art deco details that adorned the spacious lobby.

Evan waited in this lobby at 8:45 PM. To kill some time, he read a poster hanging by the escalators encouraging patrons to visit the Japanese rock garden at the rear of the building and the viewing bridge on the third floor. The bridge offered a spectacular and romantic view of Manhattan, and Evan grinned. Maybe after the movie he'd ask Cat if she wanted to check out the viewing bridge. No city view would compare to eyes the color of whiskey, and certainly no drink would warm him up better than her arms around him. He checked his watch. It was five minutes after nine. The movie was going to start in ten minutes….

It was now 9:20 PM. Evan was sure that Cat was just running late. City traffic could be such a bitch, but what if she was in the midst of interrogating a suspect? If she was still working, he knew she'd at least call him and tell him that. He watched as patrons disappeared from the lobby and the concessions into the auditorium. Anyway, the movie was still probably at opening credits.

9:45 PM. Evan wondered if something had happened, and for a minute thought he should call her. Only the theatre employees were now keeping him company in the lobby, and one looked at him pitifully. He pulled out his phone, and scrolled to "Cat Chandler" in his contacts list. _Ah, better not…don't want to appear overeager_, he thought, also remembering her distractedness from earlier in the day. _She's just running late…she'll call me._

Evan thought back to the months they'd been getting to know each other at work. She initially held him at arm's length and kept their interactions professional. It was hard cracking at her outer shell, but she slowly loosened up around him whenever he made her laugh. Over time, he grew to love her amused reactions to his jokes and his witty barbs, and she even could dish it right back at him. One night, when, in casual conversation, he mentioned an interest in cross-species DNA research, Cat's eyes lit up. And then she opened up to him and told him about her mother, who was a scientist. She confided a memory that had haunted her for years and never allowed her a peaceful night's sleep: her mother was murdered right before her very eyes. Evan saw a world of sorrow in those hazel eyes and he felt privileged to know that she was sharing this burden she was carrying, and she trusted him with that knowledge. Something sparked inside of him from that moment that he had since tried to keep burning low, too fearful of getting hurt to let it fan into a full flame.

Right at 10:15 PM, Evan pulled his phone back out from his pocket and dialed Cat. He let it ring once, twice, then at the sound of her voicemail greeting pressed End and went to see the manager about at least letting him collect the swag.

At 11 PM he was on the F train, clutching the duffel bag of useless but expensive merchandise. What he did end up seeing of the movie was terrible and the ending confused him. His phone buzzed and he fished for it out of his jeans pocket. His face fell when the caller ID displayed "Lab" and not "Cat Chandler."

* * *

Evan didn't bother stifling a yawn. He had consumed three cups of black Yorkshire tea—proper builder's tea—but he could do with more sleep. It was close to noon and he was on the subway, on his way back to the lab, after having been called in last night to sign off on more test results on the Ashley Webster case. He had finally headed home at 3 AM and he pretty much spent a restless night, wallowing in his disappointment that Cat had stood him up and didn't even bother to let him know she wasn't coming.

But today was a new day, and once he'd arrived at the lab he decided he'd let Morrissey take on the new cases in the docket—even if they were assigned to Chandler/Vargas—because today he wanted to spend some time on doing something fun, and he wanted to work on examining the six new cross-species DNA cases he had found. However, if he was honest with himself, he just wanted to spend Friday afternoon playing with the new tool-mass spectrometer.

Just as he was settling in to review his notes on the DNA samples, he heard a loud rap on the lab door. Joe popped his head in. "Busy?"

Evan pulled the laptop screen close over the keyboard. "For you, lieutenant, always have the time."

Joe stood at the threshold of the lab. "Well, good, coz I want you to know that I just saw how much your fancy new toy actually costs and it better be damn worth the hit to my department budget. It should go without saying that I better also be the happy benefactor of this whatchamacallit."

Evan laughed. "Tool-mass spectrometer." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Do you mean that my team and I should pretty much turn over lab results within twenty-four hours? Because, um, we already do that. But, yeah, Joe, we're ever grateful to have a leader as forward thinking as you who could bring crime solving into the twenty-first century."

Joe rolled his eyes. "You look terrible. Didn't you get any sleep last night?"

"I was here, signing off on lab results for Devil and Prada's beauty editor murder case."

"You need to get out more, seriously."

"What? You were just telling me that I needed to _work_ more to justify the expense of the spectrometer!"

"Come on, you know I believe in a healthy work-life balance—for those on my team, that is. I never take my own advice. Cat's planning on bringing Tess to her dad's engagement party tomorrow night. Now, I'm not telling you what to do, but I don't think she should be bringing her partner to this shindig. Just saying…."

"Are you telling me that I should be her date?"

"I'm not going to spell it out for you," Joe said, and with that, he left the lab.

* * *

She was a vision in her strapless plum dress. Evan could feel the sweat on his palms and he had to put his hand on his heart to calm his breathing. He at least had the presence of mind to meet her with a glass of white wine, and she smiled as she accepted the offered drink.

"You look amazing," Evan said as he handed her the glass.

"Thank you. You don't look half bad yourself," she laughed.

Later, encouraged by a glass of white wine and couple of smooth shots of Jameson Irish, he asked her to dance. He finally, finally melted with happiness at being able to enclose her in his arms. She relaxed so easily into them, and as he laid his cheek atop her head, he could breathe in the heady aroma of her shampoo. As their bodies swayed in time to the soft music of the live jazz band, he thought that this right here was the perfect definition of synchronicity—he just hoped she'd feel it as much as he did.

She raised her head to look up at him, still moving slowly to the music. "Thanks for being here, Evan."

"What are friends for?" he smiled.

"Friends don't stand each other up," she said, and her expression changed to regret when his smile faded. "I never told you that I was sorry. I have no excuse except I was in the middle of something and I lost track of time."

"Don't worry about it…you really didn't miss much. Like I said, the movie was pretty lousy."

"I won't do that to you again," she apologized, and laid her head back on his shoulder.

Evan took a deep breath. Everything that didn't make sense about him suddenly did at this moment when he was holding her in his arms. And after all the rejection and disappointment he'd endured the past few days, the romantic fool finally got his happy ending.


End file.
